


Leaf Ponders the Flower

by RoofDog



Series: A Waiting Game [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Anxiety, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-09 02:30:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14707412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoofDog/pseuds/RoofDog
Summary: A young man is kept in waiting.





	Leaf Ponders the Flower

A metal fan softly whirred, circulating stale air about its small room and doing little to mitigate the blistering rays of the noontime sun. Almost directly front of where it stood on its table was a young man receiving, in full, its constant stream of growing heat. There he sat in a wooden chair that wasn't particularly accommodating to his need for a comfortable place to rest. He held himself in devout balance, flip flop sandals discarded to place his bare feet on the surface of the table. With the creaky chair leaning on its back legs his eyes lazily drifted about the scarcely furnished room.

His mind was absent and nearly empty. He did not think of the heat, nor of the abode in which he stayed. Thoughts of his superiors or of comrades did not arise out of the ether. None, none. No stray nor intrusive inkling presented itself. His impromptu meditation session was interrupted by a salty glob of sweat rolling down his forehead into his left eye. He yanked his sleeveless shirt and wiped away the offending perspiration. With that, he removed his feet from the table and returned the chair to a proper position. He slouched, observing his shorts and shirt. He wished to rip them off but his shirt was his clean up cloth for sweat and his shorts prevented any curious critters from bothering his nether regions. He stood, slowly peeling his thighs off the old wood and feeling his slick brown hair dance in the fan's current.

It was time for a drink he decided. He slipped on his sandals and began walking to the kitchen. As he walked he noted with each step a fine crunching sound. Even in the absence of wind it would seem the desert ceaselessly reminded its denizens it was there. Almost proudly, it scattered its sand and let the silica granules reach every crevice and crack. Allowed little reprieve from the scorching sun and sent forth dreadful creatures. Yet here this young man stay.

He reached the fridge, pulling it open and producing a pitcher of sweet tea he concocted himself. Setting it on the counter he opened a cupboard and pulled out a tall, narrow glass. He placed it next to the pitcher. He opened the freezer and retrieved an ice tray. He popped out ice cubes and placed each one in his glass with a clink. One, two, then three. He replaced the ice tray and grabbed hold of the pitcher's handle, already damp with condensation. How he wished he could grab hold of the air itself instead and wring it off all its moisture. The thought of wringing brought attention to his hands, lightly trembling. He steadied himself and tipped the pitcher filling his glass. He sighed and put the pitcher back in the fridge.

Again he found himself sitting at the table in the uncomfortable chair and again he leaned back, this time with glass in hand. He rocked slightly, the chair protesting each minute movement. No regard was given to the rickety thing as he continued to lull himself. He raised the glass to his mouth and drank. The sweet iced liquid offered such relief to his parched throat. He relished in the brief return of moisture and coolness. He took the glass and pressed it to his forehead, a small chill washing over him. He closed his left eye and observed the cylindrical glass with the other. He contemplated the amber liquid; how it and the melting ice filtered and played with the light. There he sat, in an unwanted limbo.

'I wish you were here have some tea' the words almost came out his mouth as he thought them. But instead, an inaudible groan escaped his quickly drying throat. 'You.' His mind lingered on the word. It was much more than just a word. 'You.' Commander, Gabriel, Reyes, Boss. How he longed for his commander's return. There was nothing he could do but wait. He wasn't adjusted to this type of thing. He accompanied Gabriel on almost every assignment, and when not he was stationed with others to keep company. Now alone, he had next to nothing but his worrisome mind. 'What if he falls in the line of combat? What if he's injured and forced to retire, leaving me to carry on without him? What if he goes M.I.A. and I never get closure?'

“No, no. Stop worryin',” he spoke aloud to himself as he tried to emulate the comfort being in someone's presence. “He's a super soldier, he's clever, and he's tough as nails.” 'But you're not there to watch his back,' his mind answered his call. “He has Moira, and Commander Morrison is handling intel, it's fine.” 'Do you really trust that witch? And jack? He's going to steal Gabriel away from you. He isn't even yours, he was never yours. You're just a petulant, childish, lowly ruffian who takes up his time like an ill-tempered puppy' “That's enough!” Trying to clear his mind he stood and chugged down the remaining tea, focusing on the cooling sensation and sweet taste. He sucked up the ice cubes and juggled them with his tongue around his mouth. They melted astonishingly fast.

All thoughts were quashed but his mind was yet to be quelled. He swiftly walked to the kitchen placing the glass on the counter and grabbing a six pack of empty beer bottles. He reached the narrow hallway at the end of which the front door was located. He yanked up his supply bag holding his Peacekeeper and munitions.

Then, it happened. A banging knock on the door and a ringing of the bell. Jesse froze. That was his name, Jesse McCree. He became acutely aware of himself, how someone nearly caught him in a fit of fury. He realized just how fragile his chamber of reflection was. How none of it really mattered. How a knock, a day and a half earlier than was expected, held him in anxious suspense. He tried to steady his breathing and heart rate. He knew what the early knock meant. He set down his personal effects and his heart lowered to the ground with them. He reached for the handle, hands trembling once again.

Opening the door, he feared his fears had come true. The hinges creaked as the wooden barrier that shielded him from the truth was peeled away. When he saw who stood there, he felt his pulse stutter and a hitch pass his breath.

“Mission ended early, so I'm back,” there he was, Gabriel Reyes: in the flesh, in one piece, unscathed, a day and a half earlier than expected. “You okay, kid? You look all shook up.” Jesse was frozen, hand still resting on the door handle.

“Err...” No words came to him. He released the handle and shuffled closer to Gabriel. His arms bent slightly forward and his hands lazily hung toward his commander. Tacitly, he communicated what he desired. Gabriel closed the distance and pulled Jesse into a hug, his arm's wrapping around the smaller man's flanks. Jesse came to rest his arms on Gabriel's shoulders.

“Just missed you a bit, is all,” it was more like a lot but he wouldn't say.

“I'll always come back for you, my Jesse,” Gabriel hugged him tighter.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first written fandom thing I've posted, like ever. I suck at characterization so yeah. Let me know what you think.


End file.
